


Please don't

by Lisa_Boon1966



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisa_Boon1966/pseuds/Lisa_Boon1966
Summary: Micky wanted t go up to the pad and read, it's lucky that he did.





	Please don't

**Author's Note:**

> This has thoughts of suicide.

He needed to talk to him soon. Micky promised himself that he would, and he put it off till it was almost too late. Something was off, really off. Micky didn’t know what, but he was going to find out.

It started a few months ago when they got a heckler in the crowd yelling at Mike calling him a hillbilly. Mike ignored it and focused on playing. When they got done Davy and Micky set off to find the guy but he had gone. It escalated from there. More and more people had come to the clubs where they were playing and started calling Mike names and telling him he couldn’t play or sing, Mike ignored it the best he could. Then they started throwing stuff at all of them and when a spoon bounced off Peter’s head all four of them hurried off stage. Mike told them that maybe at the next gig, they should go on without him. The other three refused. Then the phone calls started.

They had just returned from a day at the boardwalk when the phone rang. Hurrying to unlock the door as to not miss a potential gig Mike ran to the phone.  
“Mike Nesmith speaking.” He said a smile still gracing his lips. Micky watched as Mike’s smile slowly faded until Mike was biting his lip in anger and if Micky wasn’t mistaken sadness.

“Please don’t call here ever again, we don’t need that. Goodbye.” Mike snapped and slammed the phone down.  
“What was that all about?” Peter asked.

“Nothin’” Mike said “I’m going for a walk.” and with that he stomped out of the pad and down to the beach. From then on Mike started dreading the phone calls and had Davy or Micky pick the phone up if it started ringing. For the most part it was a call for a job but sometimes it would be a male voice asking to speak to Mike. When they handed it to him Mike would listen for a few moments before hanging up, then he’d get quiet and go for a walk. Mike would stay out for a long time before coming back and heading up to bed.

Then one day after a heckler filled gig as soon as they got home and unloaded the car and Mike got back from his now routine walk on the beach he sat down on the bandstand and started to softly play his guitar. After he got done with the song he got up set the acoustic down and went over to where his cream coloured gretsch guitar was still in the case and took it out. Micky watched as Mike seemed to debate for a few seconds before grabbing it and walking over to Peter. Holding it out to the blond Mike smiled.

“Here Peter, you take her. You're better at playing her then me anyway.” Mike said. Peter looked at the Texan with confusion written in his face.  
“But this is your guitar Mike.” Peter said.  
“Just hold onto it for me for a while will you Pete?” Mike asked then he pulled off his wristwatch and handed it to Davy.  
“I want you to hold on to this for me Davy alright.” Mike said. Davy looked at him.  
“Why, are you going someplace?” Davy asked. Mike smiled for the first time, Micky released, in months.  
“You might say that yeah. Anyway, I’m off to bed, I’m tired. Night.” And yawning Mike made his way up stairs and into the bedroom closing it with a click.  
“What was that all about?” Davy asked fiddling with the watch. Micky sucked his cheeks in.  
“I don’t know, but I aim to find out.” He almost found out too late.

Two months later and the rude comments were still happening as well as the phone calls only now they had gotten to the point that Micky called the police to complain hoping they could do something. They couldn’t do anything about it though, mainly because they couldn’t find out who it was. Mike was dreading gigs now and didn’t practice anymore. He’d start to, but then wouldn’t even get to the chorus before he’d give up. Micky, Peter and Davy tried everything to make him smile. Peter thought that maybe Mike was stressed because of the calls, the hecklers and working to keep the pad clean even though they all had chores to do so they worked extra hard on them, even doing some of Mike's chores for him. Nothing seemed to work. Mike just got more moody and spent more time by himself, and he started giving more of his stuff to them. Micky got Mike’s black guitar and he started giving Peter cooking lessons. Micky finally vowed he’d try to talk to Mike about what was going on but it never seemed like a good time to bring it up.

Finally one day after a really bad heckling gig Micky, Peter and Davy went out to swim while Mike said he was going to go and think about some things. Peter asked him if he wanted to come down to the beach and go swimming to get his mind off of what happened. Mike assured Peter that he was fine and he’d soon forget about the taunts and whatever else. There was something in his voice that made Micky look at him, but he brushed it aside quickly.

“Come on you two, last one into a suit and in the water is a rotten tomato.” Micky hollered as he ran upstairs. It took Davy and Peter a few seconds to register what Micky said but as soon as they did, they ran after Micky to grab their swimsuits and to change and then down to the beach. Micky stayed out for a while before telling Davy and Peter he was going to go in and read. He reminded Peter to put more sunblock on and headed into the pad. To be honest something Mike said got to him. When he walked into the house it was quiet.

“Mike.” He called out. There was no answer.  
“Michael?” Micky called out again then he saw a scrap of paper on the table. Going over and picking it up he saw that it had his, Davy’s and Peter’s names on it in Mike's handwriting. Frowning Micky opened it and read it silently. Then he tossed it down his face pale and ran up stairs praying. He threw open the door and let out a choked sob.

  
There was Mike sitting on his bed a handgun in his hands and a startled look on his face as he looked up.  
“Mike.” Micky said slowly his hands outstretched “give me the gun.” Mike looked at him brown eyes full of pain and self loathing.  
“Why?” Mike whispered “Why should I?”  
“Because Mike.” Micky said trying to keep his voice even “This isn’t the solution...please, give me the gun.”  
“Why?” Mike asked again “I’m worthless. You and Davy are the better singers, Peter can play circles around me on the guitar, I’m just-I’m not any good. Maybe with me out of the picture you can become famous. Maybe this whole time I-I was the one who-who was.” He broke off taking a few shaky breaths.  
“Mike please.” Micky said tears in his eyes “You’re not worthless.”  
“Yeah, name one thing I’m good at?” Mike said. Micky looked wildly around in his head hoping to find the right answer.  
“You’re good at writing songs.” He said. Mike snorted.

  
“Yeah, if I’m so good at that why haven’t we been found out and gotten a recording contract?” He asked. “Three years Micky, three years. That’s how long it’s been. You’d think by now we would of gotten something to show for it.” Micky took a step in the room his hands up.  
“Mike sometimes, theses things take time okay.” He answered “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Mike rolled his eyes.  
“Now how about you hand me that gun there and we’ll talk hmm?” Micky asked “Please Mike.” Something in Micky's voice made Mike look at him in the eye and he saw something in his friend’s eyes that he had never seen before. Mike had seen a flicker of fear sometimes when they got into a crazy situation but it was normally overshadowed by excitement and the thrill of danger, but now Micky’s brown eyes were full of fear and not one hint of excitement just fear mixed with concern. Mike looked one last time at the gun and then at Micky and back at the gun.

  
“Please Mike.” Micky asked again pleading with him. Mike sighed but nodded and put the safety on then handed it to his friend. Micky let out a sigh of relief as he put it on the night stand out of Mike's reach, just in case.  
“Thank you.” Micky said then he sat down and pulled Mike into a hug and then he realized that Mike’s shoulders were shaking.  
“Shh, it’s okay.” Micky whispered patting Mike on the back trying to calm the older man down.  
“No Micky, it’s not okay...I can’t believe I was thinking about doing that.” Mike sobbed out “It’s just that, well."  
“I know Mike shhh. It’s okay.” Micky whispered they didn’t talk again until Mike was all cried out.

  
“Do you want to talk now?” Micky asked Mike shook his head no. more than anything right at that moment Mike wanted to sleep. He was embarrassed that he had broken down in front of one of his best friends and angry for not having the courage to do it before someone came in. Micky seemed to know what Mike was thinking because he gave the Texans shoulder a squeeze and said.

  
“If you really wanted to Michael, you would of done it while we were out. The fact that you didn’t and allowed me to come in and take it says something.” Mike nodded.  
“I’m going to go and make a call and then I’ll be right back okay.” Micky said as he got up and picked up the gun he wasn’t taking any chances. Mike nodded as he laid down tears still trickling down his face.  
“Who are you gonna call?” He asked.  
“Someone who can help you Mike.” Micky held up his hand to stop Mike's protests before they started.

  
“You tried to kill yourself, this is way beyond what I, Peter or Davy can do to help you alright. I know you’re not comfortable with talking to strangers, but maybe that’s what you need. To talk to someone who isn’t close to you. You know?” Micky said running a hand through Mike’s hair.  
“I don’t want to get sent to the nut house Micky.” Mike said “Nor do I want to get pumped full of drugs.”  
“That won’t happen alright,” Micky said “we won’t let either of those things happen.” Mike turned so that way he was looking Micky in the eye.  
“Promise?” he asked.  
“Promise.” Micky said as he made his way to the door to make the phone call. He paused at the door and turned around again.  
“Mike.” He said looking at his friend.  
“Hmm?” Mike asked.  
“I’m not going to keep this a secret from Peter or Davy, they need to know.”  
“I didn’t think you were.” Mike said. Micky nodded and left to make the phone call thanking God or whoever that he chose that moment to walk up to the pad to read.


End file.
